


A Week is Too Long

by hailsatanstyles



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: 1d secret s4nta, Blow Jobs, Christmas, Comeplay, Fluff, Holidays, M/M, Smut, liam's basically a slut for zayn's cock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-25
Updated: 2013-12-25
Packaged: 2018-01-06 02:38:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1101382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hailsatanstyles/pseuds/hailsatanstyles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Liam's first Christmas head over heels in love.  The only problem is the distance between him and Zayn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Week is Too Long

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for my Secret Santa assignment and I actually finished it on time ! It was supposed to be a lot longer, with more cutesy couple things and some phone sex, but alas, time evaded me. Hope you all enjoy, though, and that you all have a happy holiday ! xxxx
> 
> tumblr: hailsatanstyles

The Christmas season normally announces itself with cold winds nipping at your exposed skin, and faerie lights adorning the trees in each park, sparkling against the dark curtain of Winter sky.  Everyone dons their soft knitted hats, topped with a fluffy bauble, and matching gloves, and subsequently rips them off the second they enter the tube station.  Joyous music, mainly Mariah Carey or Michael Bublé, plays in all the coffee shops, and people are genuinely nicer.  The shift is something that settles in your heart, warming everything, even if the red tips of your numb ears argue otherwise. 

 

For Liam Payne, the Christmas season has ceremoniously began and ended with Louis Tomlinson the past three years.  His drunk speech of, “Lads, as you all know, this is my birthday month,” is one he and the others know all too well.  He’ll continue waving his pint in the air dramatically, usually sloshing half of it on himself, demanding they treat him like the Prince he is.  Since his birthday is Christmas Eve, he’s always had the misfortune of being overshadowed by the tidings of joy brought by the Christmas season; and if Louis Tomlinson is one thing in this world, it’s not overlooked.  So he makes up for it by celebrating his birth the whole month of December.

 

This year, they’re crowded into a back corner of the pub right next to the toilets ( _ideal for when you break the seal_ , Harry argues), Louis is standing on the low bar of his stool, hair illuminated like a halo from the light fixture above their round high-top table, he’s ticking his birthday month demands off on his fingers, “We will go out drinking every night, you lot will carry me wherever I need to go, uh, what else… Buy me new comic books every week, let me leave my dirty socks on the tour bus for as long as I want-”

 

Zayn lets out a disapproving groan at that, face scrunched in disgust, recalling the putrid stench his socks had left in their Mystery Machine a few months back.  “No, Lou.  I don’t care if you’re the Queen of England, that’s not happening, bro.”

 

The rest of them nod in agreement and Louis huffs, rolling his eyes. “Fine, no socks. The drinking thing’s most important so we’ll leave it at that.  We will get absolutely pissed every night and cuddle by the fireplace.”  He relents.

 

Liam finds it quite difficult to take orders from a lad sporting a Christmas jumper that has a polar bear embroidered on the front, with a pom-pom for it’s nose.  It also has to do with the fact that it’s two sizes too big for him, and his small hands poke out where it’s cuffed up a few times.  But Liam’s also not really one to argue alcohol and cuddles.  He laces his fingers with Zayn’s free hand and leans into his side,  “I like a cuddle now and then.”  He says with a warm smile.

 

“I approve of this year’s terms and conditions as well.”  Harry chirps, antler headband jingling as he tilts his head back to take a swig from his glass.

 

There’re affirmations from Zayn and Niall as well, and Louis positively beams, eyes crinkling.  “Well then lads, Happy Birthday Month to me!” The speech, as usual, ends with Niall carrying Louis on his shoulders, over to the bar, both cheering loudly for shots. 

 

-

 

As promised, their month-long holiday in London before they all go home to see their families is filled with drunken escapades.  They go to a club where there’s a confession box, and if you confess your dirtiest secret, you get a ticket for free shots (Harry goes in once and emerges with a handful of tickets and a pleased smirk on his face- the cheeky bastard).  Niall gets blackout drunk and sings the entirety of Bohemian Rhapsody at a karaoke bar all by himself, acting out the most dramatic parts.  They go to Winter Wonderland in Hyde Park, ingest enough mulled wine and waffles to kill a man, and Louis proceeds to throw up on Niall’s white Supra’s after riding the ferris wheel (the bloody _ferris wheel_ ).  And as much as Liam loves the lads and wants Louis to enjoy his Birthday Month, he can’t help wanting to do all of the cute relationship things that come with the cold weather, with Zayn.

 

One night, Louis calls for a Christmas movie marathon (at Liam’s flat) filled with red wine, cheap fuzzy jumpers, and mince pies.  Liam and Zayn are curled up together like two kittens, warm and comfortable on an over-sized tartan armchair that sits next to the fireplace, while the rest of the boys are piled on the long leather couch, fighting over which Christmas movie they’re going to watch.  Niall’s standing on the couch, socked feet slipping and sliding over the material, dangling the DVD case to _How the Grinch Stole Christmas_ just out of Louis’ reach, while Harry carries on about how they should watch a classic like _A Year Without a Santa Clause_. 

 

In all the chaos of their friends, Liam can’t stop the tug of fondness he feels in his chest when Zayn burrows his head into Liam’s neck, scruff scratching lightly at skin while his lips press lovingly up the line to his jaw.  He wants to bake biscuits shaped like Christmas trees, streaking Zayn’s cheeks with flour, nose with green icing, and kiss it off messily.  He wants to hold Zayn’s mitten-covered hand while they ice skate under golden hued string lights and proceed to fall on their bums, because they’ve always been shit at it.  He wants to lie in bed just as the sun starts to set, big spoon to Zayn’s little spoon, and watch the snow quietly drift down through their bedroom window. “I wanna do something nice with you.”  Liam traces his fingers along the cords of Zayn’s jumper, the fireplace casting warm shadows across his face, carving out his cheekbones even more so than normal.  “Just you.”  He murmurs quietly.

 

“Oh, you mean you don’t want to spend our last nights with these idiots?” Zayn clarifies with a chuckle and a half smile.

 

“Oi! I heard that, Malik!”  Louis squawks from where he’s finally distracted Niall enough to grab the DVD case from his grip. 

 

Harry yanks him back down on the couch and clamps a hand over his mouth.  “Shut up birthday boy, the lovers are having a moment over there.”  He chastises.

 

Niall grabs back the DVD from Louis, which earns a muffled protest.  “Not everything’s about you.”

 

“Like Hell it’s not!”

 

Liam just rolls his eyes fondly, as Niall turns on the flat screen TV above the fireplace and turns his attention back to Zayn.  His fingers lace in Zayn’s soft, inky, mop of hair and card gently through it, forcing Zayn to close his eyes and turn into the touch.  They’ve had too much wine, so everything is languid and warm, but Liam wouldn’t have it any other way.  “They’re just jealous.” He coos pressing a kiss to his temple.

 

“M’yeah.”  Zayn hums in agreement, the shadow of his eyelashes flickering against his skin as the fire waxes and wanes.  “So where you gonna take me, babe?”  He asks through a yawn.  It’s already half past eleven and the opening credits of the film are just starting.

 

“To bed if you can’t stay awake.”  He counters.

 

Zayn looks up at Liam with a dopey, half-lidded smile. “Bed. I like that idea.”

 

“Soft fluffy bed, with pillows and you-”  Zayn trails off until he’s burying his head back into Liam’s neck, breathing evening out.

 

Liam takes that as his cue to bring him to bed and hoists Zayn up bridal style.  “Alright lads, have fun watching the film, I’m going to take sleeping beauty to bed.”

 

They hardly respond, completely enthralled as they watch teen Who’s of Whoville climb to the peak of The Grinch’s mountain, shoving mini pies in their mouths.  He just shakes his head and continues to their bedroom, looking forward to letting the wine’s warmth take him over and rock him to sleep with Zayn in his arms.

 

-

 

Liam will never get over waking up to Zayn every morning, and how his hand splays across his bare chest as it rises and falls with each soft breath, or the way his eyelashes brush delicately at his skin.  He’s always warm to the touch, and Liam loves to curl into his side, hand atop his heart, feeling the calm and sure thump of its beat.  He knows how absolutely cheesy it is, but it took long enough for them to admit how head over heels they were for each other, and since making it official to their friends and families, Liam allows himself to be as in love and cheesy as he wants.  Zayn deserves to know how loved he is.  Because Zayn is shy and wary, and Liam wants his love to warm Zayn from the inside out and give him strength and confidence, when he’s still so delicate, and beautiful.

 

Zayn’s eyes flutter open and he scrunches his face at the light coming through the window.  “Need new blinds.”  He croaks through his dry throat.  He tries his best to look at Liam, golden skinned in the morning light, but the black of his pupils constrict and he buries his head into Liam’s chest instead.  Zayn blindly grasps for the edge of the duvet and pulls it over their heads so they’re cocooned in the warm blankets. 

 

He smiles softly at Liam. “Don’t want to get up,” he practically whispers, trying his hardest not to break the quiet of their final morning together before going home.  There’s a line that creases between his drawn eyebrows as he examines every inch of Liam, eyes flitting from the bow of his full lips, to the endearing warmth of his brown eyes.  “Don’t want to leave.”  He mouths against Liam’s pec, trailing lazy kisses over the planes of skin he’s grown to memorise, until Liam’s baring his neck at the touch of Zayn’s lips and gentle grazing of his teeth.

 

“It won’t be long, yeah?”

 

“A week is too long.  Even a day- an _hour_ is too long.”  Zayn captures his bottom lip in his own for a moment before pulling away, gaze still trained on Liam’s mouth.  Zayn’s fingertips caress the contours of his cheekbones, scruff pricking at the soft skin.  “I’ll just miss you too much, Leeyum.”

 

Liam shies away from the words and the touch, flush creeping up his neck to his cheeks.  “We’re only going to see our families for the holidays.  You act like we’re going to war you drama queen.”

 

“Not drama queen, drama _khaleesi_.” Zayn corrects with a smirk, “And besides, I know you feel the same.”

 

Liam has to press back the surge of love that threatens to spill from every pore.  He thinks it all the time even if he doesn’t say it out loud; when Zayn falls asleep with a comic opened on his chest ( _I love you_ ), on stage when his voices soars over the notes with a grace Liam never knew existed ( _I love you_ ), when Zayn’s hand always finds the small of Liam’s back to guide him in the right direction ( _I love you_ ). He hooks his legs with Zayn’s and uses the leverage to flip him onto his back.  Zayn’s eyebrows are raised in questioning as Liam hovers over him with his hands braced on each side of Zayn’s shoulders.

 

“Babe?” 

 

Liam lowers his lips to brush against Zayn’s, not enough to be considered a kiss.  They share breaths for a moment, Zayn’s eyes falling shut at the closeness.  Liam rubs comforting circles into the sharp edge of his shoulder with his thumb.  “I love you.”

 

And if there is anything in the world better than making Zayn Malik smile, Liam’s never experienced it.  His whiskey eyes fly open at the words and the small crow’s feet that only show up when Zayn is absolutely chuffed, wrinkle into view.  The pink of his tongue teasingly presses against the backs of his gleaming teeth and his chest rumbles with a happy laugh.  He tilts his chin up to connect their lips, warm and slow, noses brushing against each other.  Liam hums contentedly, pressing his tongue against the seam of Zayn’s mouth.  Zayn eases his mouth open wider, dragging his tongue against Liam’s, hand coming up to caress his cheek.  They pull apart, breathing ragged and Liam rests his forehead on Zayn’s, grinding his hips down in a determined fashion.

 

Zayn groans, bucking up against Liam rutting against him.  Liam’s lips are fixated on sucking colourful bruises into the sensitive skin of Zayn’s neck, trailing kisses down the contours of his abs until he’s toying with the waistband of his pants.  The material is tight over the bulge of Zayn’s half-hard dick. He lifts his hips so Liam can slide his pants off.  Liam shucks them on the floor and quickly pulls off his own.  He spits on his hand and dips low to grind against Zayn in earnest, moving a hand between them to work his cock in long, slick pulls.  Zayn shudders when he presses his thumb against the vein on the underside of his cock on the upstroke.  He’s fully hard now, and Liam licks his lips when he sees beads of pre-come gather at the tip and roll down.  He leans down to lap it away before it drips down the whole of his length.  He closes his eyes and moans obscenely at the bitter taste on his tongue, and nuzzles his face against him.  Liam grabs Zayn by the base and moves to trace his mouth with the tip of his cock, painting his cherry red lips with the shine of more pre-come.

 

He pushes his mouth down slowly, keeping his embouchure as tight as could be, imitating the tight heat of his arse.  The sight of Liam’s plush lips stretched over the swell of Zayn’s cock makes his head spin.  Letting his head fall back against the pillow, mouth open wide, he fights the urge to thrust up into the moist heat of Liam’s mouth.  Instead, he tangles his hand through his short hair for purchase, and maybe a little encouragement for Liam to move.  Instead, he presses his tongue flat against him and drags, long and torturous, massaging his balls with his hand. 

 

Zayn’s a quiet fuck, all knitted eyebrows and soft, breathy moans, but Liam loves to act up and talk just to make up for the way his boyfriend quietly smolders.  He pulls off, a string of spit connecting them until it breaks.

 

“I want you to fuck my mouth.”  Liam declares.  He’s using Zayn’s pre-come to lube up his own dick, working his hand over his length, fingers deftly moving his foreskin so his thumb rubs teasingly at the crown.  He’s withering in his own grip, eyes fluttering closed, practically gagging for Zayn,  “Want to taste you- suck you down.”  He moans.

 

“ _Please_?”  And Liam’s never been above begging, especially if it was in regards to Zayn’s cock.  That’s apparently all Zayn needs before his grip in Liam’s hair tightens and he’s lining himself up with Liam’s mouth.  He buried himself so deep that Liam’s taking heaving breaths through his nose whilst pressed against the small thatch of dark hair.  His throat flutters around the length of him but opens enough to deep throat Zayn.  He guides Liam’s mouth by the back of the hair, increasing the pace until his warm eyes are brimming with tears.  Zayn thumbs them away, knowing it’s only because he’s resisting his gag reflex by taking Zayn in so fully.  Liam looks absolutely gorgeous wrecked like this and knowing that this is all Liam wants, Zayn’s cock heavy on his tongue, choking him up, spilling white hot down his throat, makes something uncoil in the tautness of his abdomen and his hips stutter.

 

Liam sucks him down completely, bobbing his head with unbearable suction, until Zayn’s boneless underneath him, foggy in his post-orgasm. Liam leans back on his haunches, continuing to straddle Zayn.  His hand blurs over his own cock, lip pulled tightly under his teeth, eyes squinting closed, so close to release.  Zayn has the quick thought of letting Liam come on his face, but he’s too wrecked to even speak up.

 

“I’m gonna-”  Liam whines before he’s already coming, aiming at Zayn’s stomach, come smearing over the black ink deep in his skin.  He bows his head over the lines of Zayn’s stomach and laps up the streaks of come.  His muscles jump at the contact, but Zayn feels warm all over knowing Liam is cleaning him up.

 

He wipes at his chin, making a show of licking the come off of his palm, tongue curling around his fingers and sucking them down.  Zayn watches Liam roll off of him and cosy up against his side with heavy lidded eyes.  They lay there, Zayn tracing patterns into Liam’s skin lovingly.

 

“So, when do I get my Christmas gift?”  He asks, feigning innocent.

 

“I think morning head is a brilliant Christmas gift, Greedy.”  Liam scoffs with playfully narrowed eyes.  His voice is completely wrecked, and Zayn swoons knowing he was the cause of it.

 

“Eh, six out of ten.  Would have preferred a customised gingerbread mansion.”       

 

“Maybe next year, Zayn.”

 

“Promises, promises.” He chuckles, guiding Liam’s head down to rest on his chest and kissing the top of his head.  “As long as I get to lick icing off of your nipples once in my lifetime, I’m fine.”

 

Liam nuzzles closer into Zayn, breath moist. “There’s always next wee-”

 

There’s a crash from the kitchen and they jolt up.  Liam’s already sliding back into a pair of joggers and making his way into the hall before Zayn can wipe himself up with a flannel and follow.

 

Louis is standing in the centre of the kitchen with a pan in his hand and a sheepish look on his face, microwave beeping loudly behind him.  From there Liam can see Harry and Niall snuggled up on the sofa, fast asleep with Santa hats on.  The scent of bacon is wafting through the flat along with burnt slices of toast that are lying in the sink, smoking feebly.  

 

“Was trying to be nice and make everyone brekkie but- Bloody hell, Zayn! I could have gone all morning without seeing your cock. Go put pants on.  _Fuck_.”  Louis pretends to shield his eyes with the frying pan.

 

“Nothing you haven’t seen before, mate.”  Zayn teases as Liam drags his fingers across the bare skin of Zayn’s hip, eyes devouring the way he looks in the morning light of the kitchen.  Liam would be lying to himself if it didn’t make his dick twitch in interest for round two.

 

“Well I see what you two got up to.”  Louis’ grin is purely mischievous as he takes in the swollen redness of Liam’s lips.

 

Liam shrugs.  “Christmas came early this year, but Zayn didn’t.”

 

“Ah, oral.” Louis sighs dreamily. “The gift that keeps on giving.”  He turns back to the stove, setting down the frying pan and continuing on with making scrambled eggs.

 

Liam rolls his eyes at Louis and faces Zayn.  He trails his fingers over the dips of his abs and up to circle his nipple teasingly.  Liam would be blind to notice how Zayn’s starting to harden slightly at the touch.  “How ‘bout you take a shower,” His voice is deep and sticky sweet in Zayn’s ear,  “and I’ll help Louis get everything ready for breakfast fire-free.”

 

Zayn swallows audibly when Liam’s hand brushes Zayn’s bare cock. 

 

“We have to be at the station in two hours so don’t take too long in there.”  Liam calls after Zayn with that teasing lilt to his voice that hints he knows Zayn’s hand is already gripping the base of his cock with the anticipation of wanking off in the shower.

 

-

 

 

Christmas was always Liam’s favourite holiday growing up.  When he was young, it was filled with anticipation, laying in bed, completely restless, eyes fixated on the popcorn ceiling, ears straining to hear hoofs gently landing on his roof and the crunch of Santa’s boots trekking in the snow.  It used to be about magic and the promise of some new toys.  It was about that light, nervous feeling in his chest as he crept down the stairs at six am to see if he’d been good enough that year.  As he got older and life got a bit more difficult, Christmas became more about family.  His family was all he had, and it’s not like there was Santa to look forward to anymore.  He’d sleep in until eleven, open up gifts where new socks replaced toys, and went to service with his parents and sisters before his grandparents came over.  He’d help his mum bake enough cookies to feed a nation, veg out on the couch in a proper food coma watching a marathon of _A Christmas Story_ , and listen to his grandpa’s long-winded war stories. 

 

This year is a bit different though.  Even though it’s been dramatically different the past three years anyway with the whole money and international fame thing.  But this year, Liam’s in uncharted territory.  He’s in love.  Liam’s surrounded by his entire family- aunts, uncle, cousins, the whole nine; but all Liam can think about is how much he wants Zayn to be here with him.  He thinks of how comfortably Zayn would fit into the scene.  He’d braid the hair of Liam’s young cousins, speak with his Aunt for hours about the elegance of Oscar Wilde’s literature, listen patiently as his grandparents tell the story of how they met whilst holding Liam’s hand in his own.  Zayn would fit here, the same way their fingers slot together perfectly, and it’s _just not fair_ that they have to be separated on the holidays.    

 

Everyone in his house has heard him whine about it since they opened gifts this morning.  He understands how mental he sounds, but he _physically_ cannot stop talking about Zayn.

 

It starts when he opens a box that’s filled to the brim with rare vintage comic books.  “ _Iron Man_?  No way!  Zayn and I have been looking for this edition for ages!”

 

Then it continues when his family decides to split up into teams and play Monopoly.  “Zayn’s family plays Monopoly every Christmas.  I’ll take the boot piece.  It’s his lucky one, maybe it’ll worth for me too.”

 

And how could Liam resist laughing when a TalkTalk TV commercial comes on the telly.  “That’s our favourite!”

 

Liam wishes he could stop, he truly does, but he’s at the point where he thinks that if he lost the ability to speak, he’d write his feelings on the walls, and learn sign language just to get his point across.

 

It all comes to a head at dinner when the entire Payne family is seated at the long table.

 

“Could you pass the cranberry sauce please, Liam?”  Aunt Sophie asks from two seats down.

 

“Cranberry sauce,” Liam laments, staring off into the distance, “Zayn’s favourite.”

 

“Christ sake! _Mum_ , get him to shut up.”  Ruth complains from across the table, kicking Liam in the shin.  Their mum just glances at Liam fondly, and then looks back to Ruth. 

 

“Oh, but I think it’s cute how smitten he is.”  She says, clasping her hands together excitedly.

 

Ruth gives her a pointed stare. “ _Mum_.”  She whines.

 

“Oh fine!”  She relents.  “Liam dear, there’s one last gift for you when dinner is over.  It’s upstairs on your desk.”

 

    

-

 

 

Zayn’s lying on the couch watching reruns of _Friends_ , wrapped in what is quite possibly the fuzziest blanket he’s ever encountered.  The TV screen casts white flashes across the darkness of the living room.  His whole family called it an early night, so he figured it’s acceptable that he’s cocooned in this blanket with his hand stuffed into a jar of homemade chocolate chip cookies, and a bottle of wine pressed into his hip.  He groans loudly when his mobile rings from the kitchen, because that means he has to get up.  It’s fucking past eleven on Christmas, no one should be calling him, unless it’s Niall drunk as a skunk, wishing him a ‘Season’s Greetings’ for the twentieth time today.

 

He trudges into the kitchen, his blanket (or replacement boyfriend for the night) trailing behind him against the cold wooden floor.  ‘Leeyum’ is on the screen accompanied by a selfie of Liam sloppily kissing him on the cheek.  Eyebrows drawn, he slides his thumb across to answer and puts the phone to his ear.

 

“Babe?  Everything okay?”  He asks immediately.  Sue Zayn for constantly worrying about Liam (him and his dumb, sexy hero complex).  The last time he left that boy alone on one of their hols, he almost killed himself trying to save Andy from a fire, so can anyone really blame him for being a bit neurotic.

 

“Yeah, brilliant!”  Liam replies cheerfully.

  

“Miss you.”  Zayn breathes.  And it might be the wine talking, or it might be the overwhelming crushing sensation he’s been feeling deep in his chest since saying goodbye to Liam at King’s Cross.

 

“Look outside, yeah?” 

 

And Zayn’s face is a little more than confused at the request.  “If you’re calling to tell me it’s snowing, I already knew that.”  He says moodily, moving back into the living room, slippers shuffling across the floor.

 

“Oh, someone’s grumpy.”  Liam coos through the receiver.  “Guess you won’t get your surprise then.”

 

Zayn perks up at that.  “Surprise?”

 

“Are you at the door yet?”  Liam asks patiently.

 

“Yeah.”

 

He hangs up the phone, twists the handle to the front door and pokes his head out, eyes scanning the snow-covered landscape.  There’s nothing there, just the beam from the streetlight illuminating the steady stream of flakes cascading to the ground.  He’s enthralled by the beauty of it all until he sees the shadow of someone emerging from behind a car parked in the street.

 

 “Liam!”  He shouts, running halfway down the lawn to tackle him to the snow.  His hands fist into the blanket still wrapped around him and he pins the edges in either side of Liam’s shoulders so he’s not completely frozen.  “Liam, Liam, Liam…”  Zayn repeats over and over, a litany filled with utter joy, as he presses kisses all over his boyfriend’s face.  “Oh God, what are you even doing here?!”

 

“Missed you too much.  Me family couldn’t take my lovesick attitude anymore and bought me an express train ticket here as a Christmas gift.”  Liam’s large hands come up to wipe away the snowflakes collecting in Zayn’s mop of inky black hair. The gesture is soft and loving and Zayn practically purrs at the touch.

 

“Same.  Was miserable without you.”

 

Liam wraps his arms around Zayn’s neck, bringing his head down to connect their lips.  He gently sweeping into his mouth with his tongue and hums.  Zayn tastes like red wine and it’s sticky sweet, and goes straight to Liam’s head. “Drinking away your loneliness, have you?”  He huffs out a laugh, tongue darting out to wet his own lips.

 

“Maybe.”  Zayn acquiesces with a small smile.  Their lips meet again, a small whine eliciting from Liam’s throat when there’s a slight drag of teeth that soothed over with a swipe of saliva.   

  

“You know when you called, I was secretly hoping you got my gingerbread mansion delivered to my house after all.”  He mumbles against Liam’s lips, not really ever wanting to separate. 

 

Liam’s chuckle rumbles through his chest, warming Zayn even though the snow is falling thickly.  Their breath is coming out in visible puffs in the small space between them.

 

“This is the best Christmas gift I could ever ask for.  I love you so much, babe.”

 

“Love you more.”  Liam says into Zayn’s neck before moving to stand up.  “Now, let’s get you inside before you catch pneumonia.”  He swats at Zayn’s bum, hand resting there afterwards, leading him back into the house.

 

“I wouldn’t mind you nursing me back to health.” 

 

Liam hangs his jacket up on the coat rack, brushing the snow off of his jeans.  “Shhh,” Liam presses a comic into Zayn’s chest as they settle back onto the couch, “comics now, doctor fantasies later.”

 

Zayn’s eyes widen at the cover of the limited edition Iron Man comic he’s holding.  “No way.”

 

Liam nods encouragingly, and Zayn flips open to the first page.

 

“Happy Christmas, Zayn.”

 

Zayn looks up at the words and slides his fingers so they slot between Liam’s.  He leans up and presses a wet kiss to Liam’s cheek.

 

“Happy Christmas, Leeyum.”

 


End file.
